


What the Heart Knows

by Ickleroonilwazlib



Series: Mind, Body, and Heart [2]
Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, Memory loss trope, bevause why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ickleroonilwazlib/pseuds/Ickleroonilwazlib
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia slowly starts remembering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Heart Knows

It’s been one day, _one day_ , but it feels like a lifetime to her. Unraveling two years of what seems to be an adventure-packed life made her head want to burst in two. Plus the gods-damned bump on the back of her head wasn’t making things any better either. Add an entire village full of inquisitive people who seemed to hold her opinion in high regard and Octavia had finally broken down. She was currently huddled in a ball in the corner of their small home.

She lives with a man. A man she doesn't know. A man who is sweet and caring and perfect but he is still a man she doesn't know. And it hurts her more than anything else because she wants to know him. She's desperate to have her memories return, anything at all would have been acceptable, even the not so good parts. So far, nothing but a few traces here and there that left her wanting more. The frustration had resulted in her taking refuge in the one place she could find some solitude.

“She’s been in there for hours,” she hears Bellamy say, sounding exasperated, “you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?”

Octavia scoffs, feeling instantly defensive of her lover despite herself. She’s had moments like this—sometimes she remembers parts of memories like smells or sounds but they would trickle through her brain like cupped water. That wasn’t Lincoln’s fault. He’s trying his best with her.

“When she’s ready, she’ll let us know,” came his answer, his voice deep and calm. It’s a balm on her nerves. Her brother has been many things to her but patient has never been one of them.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to have her chat with the others,” adds a girl’s voice accompanied by a smack and her brother’s complaint, “it’s too much stimulation all at once.”

There was a rustle of commotion and Octavia instinctively curls up tighter. She would have happily talked to her brother, or Lincoln, or even Clarke whom she liked. But that was as far as she wanted to go. She never thought she’d miss the four walls of her cell but they had held her in their protection, cocooning her from the outside world. She wanted back in.

Octavia closes her eyes as the door opens, the noise from outside trickling in for a few moments before they were shut out again. She hears his heavy footsteps and the smell of food wafts towards her. She chances a peek.

“It’s your favorite,” he smiles down at her, the small plate filled with food. “No one else is going to come in,” he reassures her, extending his arm and letting her decide the next step.

Memory loss was one thing but her appetite was still as active as ever so she takes his hand gratefully and lets him lead her to the table. She eats peacefully as he lights two candles on the table and starts tidying up the small room. Though it was summer, the two windows on the roof are closed at her request and it’s getting a little stifling in the room. He never complains but she’s sure he feels it. She suddenly feels sorry for him and the words stumble out of her mouth before she can stop them. He turns, surprised at her apology.

“Don’t be,” his eyebrows coming together in concern, coming back to the table and sitting in front of her, “everything will go back to normal soon. Don’t worry.”

It was easy to believe it when he said it. His voice has that effect on her, like everything would turn out alright in the end even when things were falling apart around them.

“You like it?” he nods at the plate of food, his hand coming to rest on her knee.

She doesn’t flinch anymore, not when it’s small contact but sometimes he forgets himself and tries to touch her face which makes her quite uncomfortable still. Not because she doesn’t trust him; she’s never knows someone so easy to trust. The touch is just so intimate, so familiar, less like a memory and more like a reflex—her body leans towards it naturally, despite the empty memories behind it. She finds herself wanting more and more but with nothing to back it up. She nods in response and he gifts her with a smile. Her heart does a little flop in her chest.

“Tell me more,” she says, pushing the plate away and giving him her full attention. She thinks again that he’s quite beautiful even though she wouldn’t think such a word would fit a mountain of a man like him. But there’s a kindness in him that she wouldn’t have guessed. His touches are always soft, like she was glass, not as if she would break at the slightest touch—rather as if he was afraid to tarnish her.

He understands and picks up where they last dropped off.

“I was told you had requested a trade. Myself for Nyko. Indra didn’t look to pleased about it.” His thumb begins rubbing circles on her knee, his other hand reaching for hers. He doesn’t seem to be conscious of either action as he continues.

“You did it anyway. I don’t remember too much of it— one too many hits to the head. But I do remember thinking you looked very powerful, standing there conducting this trade.” His smile returns. “It would have worked too if it hadn’t been for the reapers. They knocked you out and took me instead—”

“You and I never seem to have a moment of happiness, do we?” she interrupts with a shake of her head, “I’m surprised we’ve made it this far.”

That has him laughing, a rich sound from somewhere in his belly. She wants to shut the outside noise entirely just to hear him completely.

“Things got better, _suiyuu_ ,” he reassures her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, callouses rough on the tender skin.

“What’s that you keep calling me?” Octavia asks, studying his face.

There’s a scar on top of his right eyebrow, not too deep but obvious enough so she can see it in the low light. He leans into her unknowingly, his eyes averting in thought, trying to piece together an explanation. Her hand lifts to his face automatically---to trace that scar---and though he doesn’t shy away from her touch, he looks a bit surprised. After a small pause of hesitation, she finally feels the ridge of the scar with the tip of her finger and somehow knows she had been the cause of it.

“Taiyuu is the word for the basic necessities in life—like water and air. It also means life forces,” he takes her hand in his and kisses her palm, his eyes soft on hers, “Suiyuu is water. Baiyuu is air. They’re terms of affection.”

She runs her thumb over his lips. They’re slightly chapped and dry and it takes all her self control not moisten them with her tongue.

“You know, you can live without water for some days, maybe even weeks,” she raises an eyebrow at him, “Without air, you’re dead in seconds.”

He leans in closer still and she can barely discern the smell of leather and earth she had woken to.

“Mmm…but without air, the suffering is minimal. Without water—well, we used to use it as a torture method.”

They’re breathing the same air now. She can see the fan of dark eyelashes hooding his eyes, long enough to almost touch his cheek.

“We’ve been happy together." She’s never been more certain of any statement in her life.

Lincoln nods, pulling at her side braid tenderly.

"We are,” he corrects and closes the space between them.


End file.
